Chapter 20 - The Woman at My Door
The woman appeared outside my condo on a Friday night.
My concierge called at 8:12.
“There’s someone here asking for you.”
“Name?”
“She says her name is Elena Ruiz.”
I did not recognize it.
“What does she want?”
“She said it’s about Westbridge.”
My stomach tightened.
“Do not send her up.”
“I haven’t.”
I called Priya.
Then I went downstairs.
Elena sat near the lobby windows holding a thick envelope against her chest.
She looked exhausted.
Mid-forties.
Dark hair pulled back.
Hospital scrubs beneath her coat.
When she saw me, she stood.
“Claire Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry to come here.”
“How did you get my address?”
She looked embarrassed.
“Online.”
That answer was exactly why I had resisted Derek’s public attack.
Once a name became part of an internet argument, strangers could find pieces of your life.
“I can’t discuss the case with you.”
“I don’t want you to.”
She held out the envelope.
“I want you to know what he did to us.”
I did not take it.
“Who is us?”
“My tenants.”
That confused me.
“You owned property?”
“I managed one of Derek Sloan’s buildings.”
Not Westbridge.
Another building.
My skin prickled.
“What building?”
“Three-flat in Albany Park.”
Priya had never mentioned it.
“Elena, you need to speak with an attorney or investigators.”
“I did.”
She nodded toward the envelope.
“They have copies.”
I finally accepted it.
Inside were notices.
Late-payment letters.
Fee statements.
Emails.
One document made my breath catch.
It used the same fictional management-company name Vanessa had placed on her fake eviction notice.
I looked up.
“Where did this come from?”
“Derek gave me the template.”
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
Before Vanessa’s scheme.
Before Mom’s birthday.
Before Westbridge.
Elena sat again.
“He bought the building with a partner. I handled tenants. Then strange charges started appearing.”
“Did you ask?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“That accounting was complicated.”
I almost laughed.
The universal language of people hoping you would stop asking.
Elena described families charged for repairs that never happened.
Security deposits delayed for months.
Fees labeled as mandatory even when leases did not include them.
When she protested, Derek accused her of incompetence.
Then he withheld her final paycheck.
“How much?”
“Three thousand eight hundred dollars.”
A fraction of what he had offered me for silence.
Enough to matter enormously to her.
“Why come to me?”
Her eyes filled.
“Because I saw his post about you.”
I stiffened.
“I thought he was telling the truth.”
The honesty surprised me.
“Then former tenants started commenting. One of them knew me.”
She wiped her cheek.
“I realized he had done the same thing to everyone. Make us feel like we were the crazy one.”
I knew that feeling.
Different circumstances.
Same fog.
Elena leaned forward.
“I’m not asking you for money.”
The sentence hit harder than she knew.
“I’m asking you not to stop.”
I looked at the documents.
That was dangerous territory.
Victims were not supposed to become prosecutors simply because they were angry.
“I’m going to give this to my attorney,” I said.
“Okay.”
“And whatever happens after that needs to go through the right channels.”
“Okay.”
She stood.
At the lobby door, she turned.
“My daughter asked why I stayed working for him so long.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That I thought leaving meant admitting I failed.”
I swallowed.
“And now?”
Elena gave a tired smile.
“Now I think staying would have been worse.”
After she left, I called Priya.
We arranged proper transfer of the records.
Then I went upstairs.
The envelope sat on my dining table.
For a long time, I stared at it.
I had spent months telling myself Derek was no longer my responsibility.
That remained true.
But evidence was different from responsibility.
I did not have to rescue anyone.
I did not have to investigate.
I did not have to carry Elena’s pain.
I could simply tell the truth about what reached me.
Sometimes that was enough.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Maya.
Dinner tomorrow? No lawyers allowed.
I smiled.
Absolutely.
Then I turned off my phone.
May you like
Derek had already taken enough evenings from people who never agreed to give them.
He was not getting mine.
